Master Puck
by SilentxWriter
Summary: Noah Puckerman is straight. Kurt knows this. So why does he keep imagining being tied up by him? BDSM. slut!Kurt. bisexual!Puck. Full warning inside.
1. On the Internet

**A/N:** Hi, guys! I'm both super-excited and super-nervous right now, because this is my first fanfic, my first M story, and my first time doing a stream-of-consciousness style. Please keep that in mind when (if) you review: tell me what I'm doing wrong and right, what I need to fix or change, how to better get my point across, etc.

As of right now, I don't know how long this will be. Probably not more than a few chapters. I'll try to update on weekends, but it might be a few weeks between updates because I'm _so freaking busy_. I really have no idea how this is going to go. It could be like a series of oneshots, or it could become a full-fledged story with (le gasp!) plot and stuff. We'll see.

**Warnings: **Slash, also known as male/male, mxm, boylove, gay sex, hot boys nailing each other, guys doing the dirty, males having a horizontal tango. Don't like? Back button's right up there.; BDSM themes (spanking, bondage, slight humiliation, etc.); sex - blowjobs, handjobs, anal, possible semi-public; swearing; possible cross-dressing. I'll probably add more to this as I go along.

Now that that's done, enjoy!

* * *

Kurt Hummel didn't know the exact moment that he had started having these … fantasies, but he knew they had something to do with porn. Which, for the record, was a _total accident_.

In a weird way that the fashionable teen didn't like to think about, it all led back to his dad. His over trusting dad who had given him a soundproof room in the basement, complete with locking door and computer completely separated from the rest of the network. What parent did that and didn't expect their teenage son to get up to something? Apparently Burt.

So, Kurt really couldn't be to blame that it had happened. It wasn't his fault he had (convinced himself he) accidently misspelled the word "prawn." And it definitely wasn't his fault that _that site_ had come up. Y'know, the one with the, uh, well … naked men.

Like, completely naked men. With the muscles and the … sweating, glowing bodies and … rock-hard abs and _other_ rock-hard –

No. No, down boy. _No_.

And so, yeah, maybe he had clicked through the site, but come _on_! He had to find (other pictures and maybe some video) a way back. And, yes, maybe that picture of the black guy holding the, uh, whip that was superimposed with "Click here for a rough ride" wasn't the smartest idea.

But, still, _total accident_.

And, um, the site? The one that had all those, y'know, videos and pictures of the guys? Yeah, maybe it kind of, sort of, was a …. Um, well, a ….

(A BDSM site.)

(And also the hottest thing Kurt Hummel had ever seen. Like, double over in pain at surprise!erection hot. Like, struggling not to cum just from looking at it hot. Like, super-duper, oh my Prada that has to hurt so _good_ hot.)

_Total accident._

But he couldn't just sit there like that. So, yes, maybe he had, um, well, _masturbated_. And maybe he had thought about being one of those guys – tied up, whipped, called all kinds of dirty names, sweet Ralph Lauren _yes_. But that wasn't even the worst part. Because he couldn't picture Blaine – gorgeous, sweet, adorable Blaine – doing all that stuff to him, and the old standby Finn wasn't working. So who popped into his hormone-addled, horny as all fuck brain? Olive skin. Tight abs and biceps. A signature smirk. Nipple ring. One long stripe of hair.

Yeah, Kurt really hated porn.

Because now he couldn't even _look_ at Puck without picturing the Jewish boy standing over him, whip in hand, teasing him, tight bondage pants hugging every little curve of his –

_No,_ Kurt forced himself to think. Not at school. No.

He tried to avoid Puck as much as possible, but they had Spanish, glee, and lunch together and Noah's locker was three down from Kurt's so it really wasn't an option. He'd always be there, bragging about his guns or threatening to throw Kurt into the dumpster or telling everyone how hot his latest fuck had been.

And that was only one part of what Kurt hated so much about this. Puck was straight, undeniably so. He liked lady-parts (gag). There was no hope in all of this. What was the point of thinking about him?

Of course, he knew the answer to that. Puck was hotter than the sun. Everything about him – his arms, his eyes, his smile, even his smell – got Kurt hard enough that he couldn't walk. Not even Finn had done that to him. There was no way Blaine or Sam could give him a hard-on just by strolling past. Gaga, but Puck got Kurt hot.

This "embarrassing situation", third of the day – and that couldn't be healthy, could it? – was because of the smirk. Kurt had been grabbing his books for math class and made the mistake of looking over towards Puck's locker. He had an arm around Brittany and she was rubbing her breasts (gag) up against him, but if Kurt moved just _that_ much to the left Brittany was gone and that could be _him_ Puck was smirking at. _His_ ass Puck was rubbing. _His _hips being grabbed at by those hands. And, yup, right on time, surprise!erection.

So now he was huddled over one of the girls' toilets, trying to keep quiet while he pictured Puckerman forcing him to his knees. _Suck it_, he would say, yanking out his dick, and Kurt would whimper. Not because he didn't want to, no, but because he couldn't wait. But Puck would pull him back by his hair, tantalizing inches away, and laugh. _Cock slut, aren't you, Hummel?_ he would ask. _Want this in you so much you'll beg for it._ "Mm, yeah," Kurt whispered out loud. He needed to be quieter, but he couldn't bring himself to bite down on his sleeve – it was _Armani_ for goodness' sake!

_Go on then, beg_, Imaginary Puck demanded and Kurt whimpered in his fantasy and out loud. "Ah, please," he mouthed, a few of the syllables squeaking out. "Please, please, please, Puck. God, want you so much. Oh, _please_." And Puck slammed his cock into Kurt's waiting mouth and Kurt just knew he would taste good, like Old Spice and musk and sweat and _male_. He tried to take all of it in, deep-throating Puck as best he could. The older boy groaned and fisted his hands in Kurt's hair, thrusting his hips hard, telling him to swallow it all down like a good cock-whore and holy _Gucci_, Kurt was so close. He was going to cum, he was going to cum, he was going to –

"What the _hell_?"

Oh, dear.

* * *

**A/N:** Ooh, who could it be? Such a sneaky writer I am. This one is short, I know, but the next one will be longer and from Puck's perspective, so it's worth hanging around.

Like my writing? Think a drunken and half-dead monkey with no hands could do better? Tell me with a review or PM. Thanks!


	2. In the Bathroom

**A/N: **First off, I'm wearing a onesie with attached monkey slippers. This makes me happy, so I decided I might as well share the happiness. Here's Chapter 2, from Puck's point-of-view. It's also longer than the other chapter, so, bonus!

And, also guys, woah. I mean, _woah_. I'm used to maybe 4 hits and one review and you guys give me _734_ and 18 reviews? God, do you want me to go into a happiness-coma? You all rock with a side of awesome sauce.

Also, forgot to put this on the last one, but I do not in any way shape or form own Glee or the actors or FOX or anything like that. I'm just a weird girl who likes the show _way_ too much for her own good.

* * *

Noah Puckerman was going to kill Brittany.

The girl had come up to him before fourth period, hips swinging and voice low and whispered in his ear, "I'm horny. Care to help out?" Oh, hell yeah. Brittany was smokin'. Only problem was that she was also Santana's and that girl could be a greedy little bitch. Plus, she could possibly snap his balls off with one hand.

"What about Santana?" he asked.

Brittany looked vaguely sad for a second. "She's mad because I'm dating Artie. He won't put out, even though I think his wheelchair is sexy, so I want you to have sex with me." Well, then. Puck flexed his guns and pulled her up against his body. Yeah, he could help Brittany out. Hey, it might even count as community service. He'd love to see the look on his probation officer's face when he told her he had spent his community service hours doing horny desperate chicks.

"Where and when?"

She brightened up immediately. "After fourth, in the girls' bathroom."

He grabbed her ass. "Hmm. Well, if I don't find anything better to do, maybe I'll show up."

"Wow," she breathed. "You're so hot right now." Oh, yeah. Semi-girly, over-dramatic storming out of the principal's office aside, Puck still had it. He skipped fourth period – because, really, when was he going to need to know literature in the NFL? – in favor of getting ready.

Only one problem, though: Brittany didn't tell him which bathroom. And since when did McKinley have _seven_ girls' restrooms? Eight if you counted the unisex one in the teachers' lounge and nine if you included the one by the kitchen in the cafeteria, which Puck was checking out now.

He slipped the door open as quietly as possible, not wanting to get chased away by some old, haggy lunch lady. It seemed empty. Just in case, he locked the door behind him. Didn't need butchy Green Bean Lady coming in to check on her face cake and getting him expelled. Puck sighed, checked the mirror and brushed a hand through his Mohawk, and left.

Well, actually, turned to leave, because right when his fingers touched the lock, he heard a voice behind him.

"Mm, yeah."

And, because he was a badass, he did _not_ jump a foot in the air. And he definitely _didn't _squeak_._ _Not a lunch lady_, he told himself. Not unless lunch ladies now had high, pretty, slightly familiar voices.

"Ah, plea - ."

Okay, seriously, what the hell was going on here?

"Ah, please, please, ah, God. Like that."

Oh. _Oh_. Well. Some girl was getting off in here. That was something Puck could deal with. After all, he was already half-hard from thinking about fucking Brittany. Why not spread the luck around? Third stall, he figured, taking slow, quiet steps towards it.

"_Puck_, ah, God."

Oh, Jesus. She was thinking about _him_. That was even better. She'd be sitting there, rubbing her clit, fantasizing about what he'd do to her and he'd all of a sudden open the door and make her dreams come true. He reached out and put a hand on the stall door, ready to push it open, when he paused. Because he knew those pants sitting around ankles on the floor. He knew that voice. And now he could hear the soft _slap slap slap_ of a guy jacking off. And the only guy that wore those clothes, that sounded like that, who would jerk off in a girls' bathroom was ….

"What the _hell_?"

Hummel.

No. _No_. It was a girl. A girl who wore the same pants as him and could, uh ….

Uh.

Okay, no, it was Hummel.

So, okay, Kurt was beating the meat and thinking about Puck. Not that big a deal. Puck was super-hot and badass, so it was no wonder the gay kid was turned on by him. But why the hell was _Puck_ getting turned on by this? Not even semi-turned on because of his high voice, but kind of super turned on thinking about bending the soprano over the sink and fucking him within an inch of his life. Yes, Puck was bi and he had accepted that, but that was for guys like Finn or something. Not fairies like Kurt fuckin' Hummel. That was, like, _gay_.

Apparently Kurt realized that Puck wasn't going to leave anytime soon, because he unlocked the door. Didn't open it or anything, but Puck didn't quite give him a chance.

"Hummel?" he said, voice deep as he pushed the door open hard enough to bang against the dividing wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jesus, the kid looked scared. Majorly scared, like he thought Puck was going to pull out a switchblade and slit his throat or something. And why in the _hell_ did that fear get Puckasaurus hard? Kurt was sitting on the toilet bowl with his knees drawn up, face still flushed and pants only half-done. The reason for that was peeking out over the waistband of his boxers. God, was the guy still hard after all this?

"Go away." He was trying to sound as confident as he usually did but that had to be hard when you got caught half-naked in a bathroom.

"Not until you tell me what's going on here."

"I – I was just ... " Kurt started, but Puck cut him off.

"'Just' what? Jacking off and thinking about me?"

Kurt took a deep breath, closed his eyes and nodded. Noah had to admit that that took guts. "Yes," he whispered, voice cracking.

"Jesus, Hummel. What, you get hard thinking about my dick?" And was that a _whimper_ the kid let out? "You thinking about sucking me off, huh?" Yeah, that wasn't a whimper, that was a full-on moan while Kurt nodded, and it was _hot as fuck_.

Okay. Okay, think, Puckerman. You've got two options here. You can beat the kid up, which you should do. Yeah, you'll get crap from Glee club, but it's forgivable under the circumstances. And then there's option number two. There's, what, five minutes left before class gets out? No chance of finding Brittany now and you're already hard.

"Well, then get down here." The words were out before Puck had time to consider the consequences. The soprano looked up at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth open, which was almost funny.

"Noah Puckerman, I am not some kind of cheap - "

Noah snorted. "Come on, Kurt. Not like you don't want to. Now get down here and suck me. Or do you want me to go telling everyone exactly what I found you doing?"

The color drained from the other boy's face. "You wouldn't."

No, he wouldn't. Puck may have been a badass but he wasn't about to get the kid _killed_. "Yeah, I would." He popped the fly on his jeans and pulled out his hard cock, raising an eyebrow at Kurt.

The kid didn't even see the expression, he was so zoned in on Puck's dick. Noah could swear he saw Hummel drooling. Oh, yeah. Kurt was _so_ into him. But he wasn't _moving_ and that was starting to get on his nerves, so he grabbed the kid by the collar of his jacket and pulled him off the seat. The weirdest thing – okay, no, one of the weird things – was Kurt didn't even make some annoying complaint about how the jacket was pure cashmere by Gucha or whatever. He just dropped to his knees and kept staring. "Suck it," Puck demanded.

Yeah, that got him moving. Hummel groaned and pushed forward, pressing his face right into Puck's crotch. Hot breath ghosted over his erection and little kitten licks started at the base, moving up slowly before Kurt took the tip into his _hot hot hot_ mouth and sucked hard. Puck took a deep breath through his nose and let his head fall back. Hummel was _good_ at this. He pushed a hand through the brunette's hair, ignoring the little protesting noise he made, and pushed him farther down. He slipped farther and farther into the soprano's mouth and then – oh God, then he was all the way in. He let himself groan while the boy deep-throated him.

"Mm, you done this before?" he asked, bringing his eyes back down to the boy between his legs. Kurt shook his head as much as he could with a mouthful of cock. His face was on fire and his eyes were half-lidded. One hand was lightly resting on Puck's thigh and the other was – yeah, the other one was pulling himself out of his tight jeans and stroking his hard dick. "Nuh-uh," Noah growled, kicking the hand away. Kurt whimpered, but Puck just smirked. "I think you've jacked off to me long enough, don't you?" And his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned and that felt _good._ Puck grunted and pressed farther in to the welcoming mouth, trying to get him to do it again. "Ah, God, Hummel. You did this with someone, had to."

Kurt pulled off, panting. "Mm. Bananas. Wanted to … wanted to be ready. Wasn't like this."

Puck chuckled, then groaned when the fashionable teen sucked him down again. "Yeah, like that. Knew you were a slut, Hummel."

And, whoa. _Whoa. _Whoa. That must have been Kurt's on switch or something, because the second the word left his lips, the boy moaned deep in his throat and started bobbing up and down on the cock in his mouth, sucking like his life depended on it. It was all Noah could do to hold off from cumming immediately.

"Shit, like that. Just like that. Ah, yeah, take it all in. Suck that dick. Mm, such a little slut, aren't you?"

Kurt pulled off long enough to gasp, "Yes, yes, _yes_," then dived back down again. Puck groaned and fisted the brunette's hair in between his fingers.

"Ah, God. You're a good little cocksucker, Hummel. Yeah. Gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours."

The smaller teen groaned. Damn, that vibration was good. Noah's ears started ringing. He was close, he was going to –

Hummel pulled off, hissing, "Shit," and started to pull his clothes back on while Puck gaped down at him.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, whore?" he hissed, pushing the boy back down onto his knees. Kurt whimpered and glanced at the door.

"The – the bell," he managed. Puck's brow furrowed, but then he heard the drone of conversation as students started spilling into the cafeteria a few yards beyond the bathroom door. The ringing in his ears must have been the lunch bell.

His lips pulled into a snarl. "You think I care?"

"But … but someone could – "

Puck snorted. "Someone could what? Walk in here and see you on your knees, sucking my dick like the whore you are? Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Yeah, you would."

The kid whimpered, glancing between the door and Noah's dick. Finally, when the mohawked teen was about to lose patience, Kurt sighed wistfully and took him in his mouth again. Puck groaned and pumped his hips into his mouth. God, he was tight and hot and _good at this_.

"Gonna cum in your mouth," he grunted. "Want you to swallow it all down. Taste me all through lunch. Know that I know how much of a fucking slut you are. Ah, God, _Hummel_!" He thrust his hips up once, twice, and then everything went white. He was vaguely aware of Kurt moaning high and long, of a swallowing sensation around his dick that almost made him cum again, and then he was floating back down.

He ran a hand over his hair, straightened his clothes, pulled his pants back up. Kurt was still on his knees, rubbing his dick hard and whimpering. Puck glanced in the mirror, decided he looked okay, and unlocked the door. Before he pushed it open, he turned back to the row of stalls and hissed, "See ya in Glee, _slut_." Hummel's cry bounced off the walls, and Noah smirked as he left.

Oh, yeah. Puckzilla still had it.

* * *

**A/N:** Super hot or super not? Funny in all the wrong ways? Glaring plot (giggle giggle snort, like this has a plot) holes? Tell me all about them in a review or a PM. I can't promise you cookies, but I can promise you improved writing.

Also, I'm open to suggestions on what to write. If you have some brilliantly hot scene that you want to see, tell me about it and I'll do my best to write it and fit it in. Thanks, guys and gals!


	3. In the Closet

**A/N:** Hi, guys. I feel kind of bad for saying that I would update on weekends and then, you know, _not_. The only thing I can really blame that on is finals, but I've always hated writers who act like everything that goes on in their lives needs to be published so others can commiserate. So, really, I'm just lazy and didn't feel like writing, and I'm sorry.

I also think that this is going to be the last chapter, so two things about that. First, I don't like this chapter. I'm not even sure why, I just don't like it. That doesn't make me feel real confident that you'll enjoy it either, so if you hate it, please tell me. I may come back later and redo it or publish and alternate ending or something. Plus, I just love the feedback. Second, don't freak out if you requested something and don't see it in here. I'll probably make one-shots for all those requests, so just keep your eyes peeled for those and keep shooting 'em at me. I'll get 'em done sometime before I die. Probably. I hope.**[Important: See Edit at bottom]  
**

Finally, thanks to all of you kickass readers and reviewers. You have no idea how happy I am that people like this story. It makes me remember why I love writing. Thanks to all of you guys for being awesome.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Big Gay Freak-out wasn't quite as Big or Gay as Puck had been expecting. Though he would never admit it to anybody, he had a sort of routine worked out to regain his feeling of badassery when he and Finn fucked. (They didn't have sex, they didn't "do it," and they most definitely did _not_ make love. They angry-fucked, pure and simple.) He locked himself in the basement with a punching bag and his iHome, blasted an alt-rock playlist creatively titled "playlist 1," and beat the shit out of the bag. He figured the same thing would work for Hummel, though he might have to use some heavier music. As it turned out, it did. It didn't, however, take the questions away. Puck was left standing in a cold basement, surrounded by stuffing, wondering what exactly was going on.

How in the hell did he go from being am-bad-ass-or to wanting the most limp-wristed person in the entire school? When had he turned from bisexual to totally-gay-for-Kurt-sexual? Did he really want Kurt or was it just heat of the moment? What in the sweet, almighty name of _fuck_ was he going to do? In times like this, Puck had one answer.

Porn. Porn was definitely in order.

Only the mindless soundtrack of _Big Tits, Big Dicks, Big Fun!_ could take his mind off of things now. Surely seeing those hot girls would turn him off of Kurt. He just needed to see some MILF getting screwed three ways from Sunday and everything would be fine.

Except it wasn't. Yeah, it got him hard, but he found himself wondering if Kurt would moan like that, if he could bend his leg that well, if his dick was that big – and why was he looking at the guys' dicks anyways? He was here for the tits, for the pussy, for the ass. Ass. Nice ass. Good ass. Kurt's ass.

No!

Meanwhile, Kurt was having his own version of the BGF, which was big, gay, and freak-out-ish enough to make up for Puck's lacking.

Puckerman. Puck. Noah Puckerman had caught him –caught him! – in the middle of a very compromising act. And he hadn't even ripped Kurt's head off. He had … he had ….

He … _ooh._

Not the time!

And Kurt had _liked it_! Completely and utterly gotten off on it. Even with Puck telling him he was a slut. Even though it was his very first time giving … oral sex. Even if Puck had threatened to tell the whole school.

And he would, wouldn't he? It was just like Puck to do that, to force Kurt to give him head and then turn around and get him killed. Kurt could already imagine the list of people who would be waiting to rip him limb from limb. They'd probably have to draw numbers. Karofsky first, then Finn, then Azimio …

He was so dead. There wasn't really a way around it. It wasn't like he could force Puck to keep quiet or blackmail the boy back. And what would he bribe him with? Clothes? Somehow he seriously doubted Noah would be moved by the beauty of Louis Vuitton. But….

But Puck did like Glee. And Kurt was in Glee. And they only had the bare minimum of people. If Kurt dropped out, Glee would have to shut down. Puck wouldn't get to sing anymore. Yes. Yes, Kurt could use Glee to his advantage.

It was a drastic measure, sure. Kurt really, really didn't want to quit Glee. It was pretty much the only thing keeping him from going bat-shit insane, but he'd much rather be bat-shit insane than dead any day of the week. He just hoped Puck would like Glee club more than ripping Kurt in two.

The soprano nodded at his empty room. Yes, this was the answer. He would talk to Puck tomorrow after school. First, though, he needed a shower. A, _ahem_, cold shower.

Damn Puck.

**[...]**

Thursday didn't _seem_ any different. The bullies were complete assholes, but that was to be expected. Nobody was staring at him or whispering, "That's the gay slut who tried to seduce Noah Puckerman" behind their hands. Puck wasn't there, but he never showed up for the first few classes. Something about "School starts when I say it does, bitch."

Kurt almost had a heart attack in the passing period between English and Biology II when Mercedes latched onto his arm and hissed, "How could you?"

After jumping about twenty feet in the air and letting out a squeak that turned more than a few heads, he managed to squeeze out, "How could I what?" Already a million excuses were forming in his head. It was an accident. He forced me. It's a lie. (He's fucking hot.)

She shoved a dark green piece of paper into his head. His thoughts flew. Did Jacob Ben Israel know? How? Had Puck told him? Had someone else told him? How did _they_ know? Did everyone know? Was all of this acting nonchalant thing a ploy to catch him off his guard?

"How could you not tell me about the play?" Kurt's brow furrowed as he unfolded the paper. Oh. It was a flyer. Oh, yeah. _Wicked_ at the Artisan in two weeks. He had meant to tell 'Cedes immediately.

He tried not to sigh in relief. "I'm _so_ sorry, Sadie. I'll get us two tickets ay-sap. Promise."

"Pinky promise?" she held up her little finger and he wrapped his around it.

"Totes." She grinned, satisfied, and walked away. Kurt breathed a shaky sigh, grabbed his Bio book, and shut his locker.

And promptly opened it again.

Because Puck was here now. Here, as in three lockers down from Kurt. Here, as in zipping up his backpack and starting to walk in the fashionable teen's direction. Here, as in dressed in low-riding jeans, a tight, practically see-through t-shirt, and a – damn it all – leather jacket. Dolce and Gabanna, was the guy _trying _to kill Kurt by erection?

He was _not_ ready to talk to Puck. He didn't really think he was ever going to be ready but hell if he wasn't going to try and put it off until the last minute. Hide. He had to hide. And fast, because Puck was heading his way quickly. Empty classroom? Locked. Boy's locker room? Not if he wanted his face intact. Janitor's closet? Ew, no.

"Hey," came the all-too-familiar voice behind him. "Hey, Hum-"

As quickly as he could, he jumped in the first door he came across. His fingers scrabbled against the door lock, pushing it in and hearing the satisfying _click_ milliseconds before it started jiggling underneath his palm. He jumped back like it was a live bomb. "Shit, that was close," he whispered.

On the other side of the door, Puck sighed and brushed a hand through his Mohawk. Great. Fuckin' great. Just when he starts to accept this … whatever the fuck it is, Hummel goes and throws a bitch fit about it. He should have known.

"Really, Kurt?" he called, trying the handle again. "Knew you were gay, didn't know you were a girl." No response. "Oh, come on, Hummel. Man up. Grow a pair and let's talk this out." This time, there was a snort from the other side of the door, but still no lock opening. "Fine," Puck growled. "Thought maybe you had a little bit of courage, but apparently I was – " The faintest click came from the handle, and Puck pounced. Hummel squeaked when he forced the door open, trying desperately to shut it, but the larger male shouldered his way in and shut it behind him again, locking them in near-darkness. With his back to the small window, Puck could see Kurt pressing his body against a pile of boxes at the far side of the room.

"Dude, I'm not going to hurt you," Puck said, holding up his hands. "I just want to talk."

Warily, Kurt extricated himself from the cardboard boxes and took a few steps closer, back ramrod straight. "I don't think we have anything to talk about," he sniffed, sounding as confident as ever despite the fact that he was cowering in a supply closet.

Puck snorted. "Is that what you call you sucking me off in a bathroom? Nothing?"

Kurt shushed him hurriedly, glancing around like there might be people hiding behind the old textbooks and dusty posters. "Would you keep your voice down. _Nothing happened_. Okay? If you want Glee to stay intact, that's what you'll tell everyone."

Noah crossed his arms. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you tell anyone – I mean _anyone_," Kurt threatened, "what happened, I'll quit Glee and then it'll shut down. You want that to happen?"

Damn. Hummel was pretty good at this badass thing. Well, except for the fact that he didn't know how to let a good threat hang in the air. He was going on and on about how there were only twelve people and Puck had to be very careful and don't tell anyone at all under penalty of your life and Noah kinda wanted him to shut up now. So he kissed him.

Because that was the conclusion Puck had come to the night before: that maybe he didn't have to be bisexual or pansexual or heterosexual or whatever. That maybe he could just like people without it mattering so much. And that Hummel was actually kind of sexy, and since Santana had officially hooked up with Brittany and Finn was dating Rachel and he wasn't getting any from either of them, maybe Kurt and him could fuck around. So, yeah, he kissed him.

The soprano made this really high squeaking noise in the back of his throat, pushing his fists against Puck's chest and trying to pull away, but Noah tangled his fingers into the brunette's hair and kept him in place. Finally, Kurt started melting into the kiss. That's when Noah pulled away.

God, Kurt was sexy when he was just kissed. Like, hella sexy. His lips were swollen and red, hair mussed, eyes half-glazed. He shook his head a little and muttered, "That has _got_ to stop happening."

"What?"

Kurt shook his head again. "Nothing. What the hell was that?" Yeah, there was bitchy Hummel again.

Puck shrugged, leaned back, and adjusted himself through his jeans. He didn't miss the way Kurt's eyes darted down to his crotch, fluttering, or the way he licked his bruised lips unconsciously. "You turn me on, Hummel," Noah said, simply. "Since you seem to get off on me, too, figured I'd just give us both what we wanted."

"A-and you think I _want_ to be mouth-raped?"

"Please. Who _doesn't_ want to make out with the Puckmeister?"

"Your humility is astounding," Kurt muttered with an eye-roll. "I swear to Gaga, if this is some plot to humiliate me, I will – "

"Thought you liked being humiliated," Puck interrupted.

Hummel's mouth hung open. (And, yeah, Puck was thinking about other things Kurt could do with his mouth. Sue him.) "I – I do not …." He stammered, face flushing cherry red.

"Bullshit," Puck said, smirking. He'd picked up on that yesterday, even in his horny state. Back in his pool boy days, Noah had met a number of MILFs who like being dominated. Whips and chains and master – the whole nine yards. He'd learned how to notice the signs. Kurt had a bad case of it, and Puck was definitely willing to be his cure. "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't like everyone knowing how much of a fucking slut you are."

Hummel swallowed hard but, to his credit, he stared Puck straight in the eye and started, "I am not a … not a … I'm not …." His voice trailed off in a whimper, which might have had something to do with Noah suddenly grabbing the noticeable bulge in his (tight as hell) jeans. Hey, Puck never said he played fair.

"That's what I thought," he chuckled, starting to stroke the smaller teen. Kurt whimpered and tried to buck his hips up, but Puck pulled his hand away. "Ah-ah-ah. I decide when you get to come. Understand?"

Hummel barely managed to pant out a "Yessss."

"'Yes' what?"

That did him in. His head fell back onto the shelf behind him and he let out a long, throaty moan. "_Fuuuck_. Yes, sir. Oh, God. Yes, sir!"

"That's a good boy," Puck murmured, grabbing the soprano's erection again. "You been waiting for this a long time, haven't you?" Kurt nodded, or maybe that was just his head lolling forward. "Yeah. How long you been thinking about me?"

Kurt forced his head up. "Oh, God. _Months,_ sir. Got hard just looking at you. Wanted this so bad. Mm, please. More, sir, _please_."

The sound as Puck unzipped Hummel's jeans was almost deafening in such a small space. When he pulled the soprano's (surprisingly large) dick out of his pants, Kurt hissed at the sudden contact of cold air, then moaned when Noah wrapped his hand around him again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You think about me dominating you? Huh?" When Kurt nodded, he continued, "What did you think about me doing?"

A pink tongue darted out to lick his lips as Kurt panted. "Mm, like that. _Oh_. Thought about … thought about you … tying me up. Making me – God! – suck you. Bending me over and … and spanking me, then … then … ooh, _more_."

"You think about me fucking you?" Puck asked, stroking harder.

"Oh, yes! Yes, sir."

"Yeah, bet you did. You think about my big dick stretching you out, filling you up? Imagine me pounding your tight little ass until you're screaming? Want me to spread you open and take you like the whore you are?" Kurt's head fell back and one of his hands wandered up to squeeze at his nipple. Immediately, Puck pulled away. The smaller boy made a sort of whimpering noise in the back of his throat, canting his hips forward.

"No touching," Puck hissed at him, gripping his hair and pulling his face up so he was looking right in Noah's eyes. "Or I'll tie your hands behind your back." Kurt sucked in a tiny gasp at that, something like interest sparking in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered a hand to his cock. His fingertips had barely skimmed over it before Noah was grabbing his hands and pulling them behind his back. In one swift motion, he had the soprano bent over one of the taller boxes in the room, hands pinned behind him and pants around his ankles. He pulled a rubber band off of one of the posters nearby and wound it once, twice, three times around the wrists in his grasp.

"You're being a very bad boy, Kurt. You know what bad boys get, don't you? They get spankings." The brunette pressed his face into the cardboard, trying to stifle his moans. Puck continued, "I think you deserve a spanking, don't you?" When Kurt nodded frantically, he chuckled and reached around to grip his erection. "Only five, though. Don't want you getting too excited." Then he stepped back, admiring the view. The shorter teen was squirming a little, ass gleaming in the light from the window. Every now and again, he would shift his weight from one foot to the other and his cheeks would part, giving Puck a momentary glance at his hole.

"Count 'em," he grunted, and swung.

The first blow was hard and fast, pushing Hummel forward on the box. He screamed a little, biting down on his tongue at just the last second. "One," he gasped out.

The second was slower and Puck's hand stayed for a second to caress the spot. "T-two."

The third hit barely above his thighs and stung like hell. "Ah! Oh, three."

The fourth overlapped the first, right when it had begun to numb. "Oh, God, f-f-four."

The fifth … God, the fifth. It hit both cheeks evenly. Puck's hand smoothed over the skin, then dipped between his cheeks to rub against his hole. "Fi – Oh, Jesus, please! Please, sir!"

For once, Puck seemed to take mercy on the smaller boy, and reached around him to press three fingers into his mouth with a demanding, "Suck." Kurt pulled them into his mouth without complaint, focusing completely on coating the digits with saliva. They tasted familiar but, somehow, not as good as he remembered.

"Wish that was my dick, don't you?"

Yeah, that was what he wanted, what was missing. God, he wanted it so badly.

"'Course you do. All sluts do, and that's all you are, isn't it?" He pulled the fingers out of Kurt's mouth and flipped him over.

"Yes, sir," the soprano gasped as the digits trailed down his neck, skimming over a nipple, brushing past his belly button. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally they were pressing against his hole. They brushed back and forth, moistening it and then … and then ….

Paused.

With an impatient whimper, Kurt tried to press down on them, but Puck pulled back just enough to keep them out of reach. "Try that again and I'll leave you like this," he warned. When the brunette stilled enough to satisfy him, he ran his free hand up and down the cock in front of him. Hummel shuddered, trying his hardest not to buck into the touch. "You want it bad, don't you, slut?" Puck said casually, as if discussing the weather.

"Oh, y-yes sir. Oh, God, yes. Want it so bad. Please. Please, sir?"

"Mm," Puck hummed with a small nod. He sat like that for a few more moments, running a finger up and down Kurt's erection and pressing up against his ass. The next word he spoke had Kurt sucking in a breath and getting even _harder_ if that was possible. "Beg."

"_Please_, sir! Oh, please, please. Please, fuck me. God, fill me up. I want to cum so bad, sir. I – I _need_ to cum. 'M so, so hard. Wanna … please, make me scream, sir. Want to cum for you, sir. _Please_!"

Puck pushed one finger just past the ring of muscle. "What are you?"

Kurt shuddered. "I'm a - a slut. A whore. I need – I need cock. Oh, please, give me cock!"

He was rewarded with another finger pressing in. "And _whose_ are you?"

"Yours! Yours, sir! Only yours. I – I – _oh, God_!"

The two fingers plunged in, stretching him fully and scissoring out. Puck's fingers were so much different from his own. They reached deeper and were rougher and _fuck_, he loved it. He was bouncing up and down on them, moaning like a cheap whore, trying to get them to hit his prostate. Puck was fisting his own cock and whispering filthy things in his ear. "Fuck toy," he called him. "Cum slut. Dirty whore." He slipped the third finger in and tilted them a bit and

Holy

Fucking

_God_

that felt good. That had to be his prostate, that little spot that Noah kept hitting and that was making him see _stars_. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming, but he was pretty sure he was moaning loudly enough to be heard three rooms over. He was so _close_. He opened his mouth to try and warn Noah, but all that came out was "God, yes, like that, love this so much, so good, so good, thank you, sir, please, such a slut, please, please, please!"

Thankfully, Puck seemed to understand and reached over to grab his cock, hissing, "Cum for me."

Kurt cumming was a sight Noah didn't want to forget. His eyes screwed shut, hair plastered to the side of his face, mouth open wide in a silent scream as his back arched off the boxes underneath him. Watching the normally put-together boy fall apart like that was enough to push Noah over the edge. He groaned and bit down on Kurt's collarbone hard enough to leave a mark, spilling himself over the smaller teen's stomach and chest.

They collapsed together against one of the walls, heaving in panting breaths and shuddering through aftershocks. Puck was the first to move, gently unbinding Kurt's hands, helping him massage blood back to his fingers and find his shirt. Aside from mumbled "thank you"s and Noah swearing as he tried to pull on his shoes, neither of them spoke until Puck started to open the door.

"Noah?" Kurt started quietly, refusing to meet Puck's eye. "Is this … I mean, are we … Is this a one-time thing?"

The mohawked teen glanced Kurt up and down. "You want it to be?"

"Well, I … I mean … I – not really, no." Kurt's cheeks flushed violent red. "I really kind of … um, well, I liked it. A lot."

Noah chuckled. "Me too, Hummel." His face flashed serious for a second. "But tell anyone I said that and I'll whip your ass."

"Maybe I should tell someone then," Kurt joked, half-smiling. Puck growled and pulled him into a bruising kiss, teeth nipping at his lower lip and tongue pressing down his throat. When he pulled back, he looked like he wanted to say something. "What?" Kurt breathed.

Noah opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. "Nothing. Let's get to class." He opened the door and let Kurt go first, smacking him on the ass as he exited.

Hummel could figure out he had a giant hickey on his neck on his own

* * *

**A/N:** Amazing? Terrible? Epic fail? Tell me with a review or PM.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love you all oodles.

_~Silent_

**Edit:** So, I think when I published this yesterday (or, really two days ago now, seeing as how it's 9 minutes past midnight [happy Wednesday!]) I was in one of my bitchy moods, mostly due to the fact that I didn't have my Prozac or thyroid medication, but also partly due to the fact that Physics and pre-cal are really whooping me good. Then, last night, I made an amazing discovery. This discovery pulled me from the depths of my quasi-depression and made me see the good in the world. I saw the light, and the light is named: _Bo Burnham_. Kind of the funniest guy I've ever seen. Got me out of a slump. So, to cut myself off before I start randomly quoting his show ("Approximately 33.33% of the Jonas Brothers have diabetes." "I masturbate because I'm the only one who's standards are low enough to fuck me - GJREJKLEEDJEIDFJA!"), here's the point of all this:

STORY'S NOT OVER.

At least, not yet. I've got one more chapter I want to do. (And, yes, your two favorite guys do actually go "all the way". Like, dick in ass "all the way". Commence the squealing.) After that, we'll see. Probably I'll go through this one or two more times, where I'm like "Story's over, I can't do this anymore, fuck you world," and then come back all, "JK, guys! For cereal, I'mma keep writing! Yaaay!" Bear with me. I'm a slightly depressed hormonal teen doing the best I can.

Sorry for freaking any of you out. Sorry for assuming I'm important enough to freak anyone out. Sorry for sounding like a whiny emo bitch kid. Sorry for swearing so much. Sorry for over-apologizing. Better stop myself now. Cue the Bo Burnham quotes!

"My friend is black, but I don't know what to call him, so I just call him ... What-Up-Jamal. Even though his name is Steve."

"One out of every fourty-four US Presidents can dunk. (It's Millard Filmore, you racists.)"

"My ex-girlfriend had this really weird fetish. She liked to dress up like herself and act like a fucking bitch all the time."

Love you all super-epicness mucho grande with a large Coke and a side of fries!


	4. In the Air

**A/N:** So, I'm back! And not dead! (Though I'm sure some of you wish that...) There's a long (read: enormous) explanation as to my absence, but I'll save that until the end. If you're wondering why I'm updating when I said the story was over, I suggest you read the **edit** at the bottom of the last chapter. If you're wondering who I am and what I'm blathering on about, I suggest you read the first, second, and third chapters.

So, new chapter! Yay! Um, basically, I went to New York about two weeks ago and on the plane ride home, this popped into my head. (Yes, I know, why am I thinking about porn on a plane? [That sounds like the name of a corny adult film: _Porn on a Plane_.] Because I'm a teenager.) So, I thought, I'll write it and share my horny thoughts with everyone! No, it doesn't have actual sex, because I found out that I can only write actual sex in the daylight, and the times I can write this story in the daylight are few and far between. But it's ... well, it's got ... it's ...

IT'S SOMETHING SO ENJOY IT GODDAMNIT! God, these whiny kids, think all I do is work to entertain them, don't they know I've got a life too, you know! Gragrararar. Grumble grumble gripe.

Um...

Enjoy!

* * *

So they had made it to Nationals.

Which was great – amazing actually. Even if they hadn't won (damn you, Vocal Adrenaline!) they had stayed in New York. _New Freakin' York_. And everyone knew what was in New York. Fifth Avenue. The Gucci store alone had made Kurt swoon for a solid five minutes. And then there was the Radio City Music Hall, and the Met, and Times Square. And Broadway. _Broadway_. With _Wicked_ and _Phantom_ and dear God, Kurt was in Heaven, he could die, kill him now!

The only bad part about the whole affair was that they had made it to Nationals. Which, apparently to Mr. Schuester, meant three months straight of practicing singing and choreography and facial expressions and pitches and costume design and still somehow finding some time to study for finals.

So, yes, after the adrenaline of being in the Big Apple and coming in second had worn off and they were all sitting in an airport terminal to go back to Ohio, they were almost all dead tired. "Almost" all, because Kurt was practically hooked to an IV of Starbucks, claiming that he was "going to experience every _minute_ of New York I can, goddamn it!" and Puck was … well, no one was quite sure what Puck was doing. From the second they had sat down, he had been fiddling with the handles of a plastic bag he'd pulled from his suitcase and staring steadily at Kurt as the brunette bounced around, flashing pictures with all his sleeping teammates.

"Smile big, Noah!" he yelled – well, said, actually, but the terminal was quiet so it seemed extraordinarily loud – plonking down into one of the plastic seats beside the Jewish boy and practically blinding him with the camera flash. He made a move to get up again, but Noah grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. Kurt most definitely did not squeak.

"What in God's name do you think you are going to do with - " Noah glanced at the camera. "Seven hundred and fifteen photos?"

"I'm making a scrapbook," Kurt answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That reminds me. I'm taking a vote. Which sounds better: 'Kurt Elizabeth Hummel _takes_ New York' or 'Kurt Elizabeth Hummel _meets_ New York'?"

Puck pulled him a fraction closer. "How about 'Kurt Hummel has the best orgasm of his life in New York'?"

And, oh. _Oh_. Well. That was ….

Because three months of practice and school meant three months of being drop-dead tired, which in turn meant three months of no time for hookups with a certain mohawked hunk. Suffice it to say that Kurt was hard in an instant.

"Here?" he whispered, eyes widening. "But there are _people_!"

Noah just snorted and passed him the plastic bag. "Go to the restroom and put these on, then come right back here. Understand?"

Kurt nodded and started to stand, only to be pulled back down. Puck arched an eyebrow at him, and he shuddered. Leaning in closer, he whispered, "Yes, sir." Noah hissed a "Good boy," at him and pushed him back up. When he walked past Mercedes, she gave him a look, obviously wondering what the two boys had been talking about. He shook his head and said, "Powder room." She seemed satisfied. After getting a safe enough distance away, Kurt opened the bag to see what was inside. And then snapped it shut again, mortified.

Noah watched him carefully has he came back, silently appreciating how calm he looked. Well, except for the slight stutter in his step and the faint blush on his cheeks. Dead giveaways to anyone who knew to look for them. Kurt collapsed into the seat next to Noah, then blinked hard and resituated himself.

"Like that, don't you?" Puck teased, smirking. Kurt's hands curled around the armrests until his knuckles were white and he nodded. The smirk turned into a scowl and Noah's hand came up to rest on the back of Kurt's neck. Not quite squeezing, just resting there. "I asked you a question, slut," he said very calmly.

Kurt's voice was about two octaves higher than normal (pretty impressive, actually) when he answered, "Yes, sir. It's so … so good." His hips canted forwards a few inches.

Puck almost wanted to make Kurt go down on him right then, but the plane started boarding before he could. After getting onto the plane (and passing Artie who was very happy with his, quote, "ballin' seat choice, yo!") and stuffing everything into overheads, Puck convinced (read: promised wild birthday sex to) Santana to switch seats with him, so he could sit next to Kurt. There was nothing he could do about the middle-aged business man in the window seat, but from the looks of it, he'd be out within an hour, so it wasn't like they needed to worry about him too much.

Noah decided to let Kurt relax for a little bit. After sitting stiffly in his seat for half an hour, the soprano finally put in his earbuds and started flipping through his _Vogue_.

That's when Puck started the plug.

Kurt's hands clenched spastically and he jerked in the seat, drawing in a shaky breath. The businessman mumbled something in his sleep and turned as much as the seat would allow. Kurt meticulously shut his magazine and removed his earbuds, then turned to glare at Puck. "Are you insane?" he hissed. "What do you think you are - " Puck twisted the dial another notch and the brunette's words trailed off into a whimper as the vibrator in his ass kicked up in speed.

"That was pretty mean, Hummel," Noah said quietly. "I think you oughta say you're sorry."

Kurt turned back around as smoothly as he could with a vibrating plug pressed right against his prostate. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Puck shook his head. "Not very convincing."

Kurt took a deep breath in through his nose. "I'm sorry, _sir_."

Noah nodded and grinned. "That's better. Now, tell me the truth, slut. Did you put on everything that was in that bag? Did you do what I asked you to?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt whispered, still struggling to breathe. Unconsciously, he started rocking back onto the plug, trying to create some much-needed friction. He was harder than he thought possible, pressing against the front of his jeans painfully. Every time the plane would jolt or jostle, it would knock him forward and he had to hold his breath to keep from moaning loud enough for everyone to hear.

Noah leaned in closer. "Show me," he whispered.

Kurt's breath hitched and his eyes snapped closed as he trailed a hand down to the button of his pants. Puck moved the clasp on the back of the seat and pushed the tray table down as the soprano unzipped his jeans and pulled out his aching cock. Noah ran one finger along the head, smearing pre-cum down the vein on the underside. Just before he reached the base, he was interrupted by smooth, warm metal. The cock ring.

"Good boy," he purred, flicking the vibrator off and wrapping his hand fully around Kurt's throbbing erection. The smaller boy whimpered and practically slammed his head against the tray table. "Very good. You wouldn't believe what I had to do to get that through security." He chuckled. "The TSA lady kept giving me these looks like she thought I was a terrorist or something, and then she finds this thing in my bag."

"No_ah_," Kurt groaned, almost panting.

"She wanted to pull me back, do a search, but then I told her that it was for this little slut I knew and she let me go on through. Because that's what you are, isn't it? Just a little slut. You'll do anything to get cock, to cum. Don't care how humiliating or public it is. Isn't that right?"

"Sir, _please_," Kurt begged, hips pumping forward.

Noah slowed his strokes until they were almost non-existent, shushing Kurt when he groaned. "You want to cum, you gotta tell me what you are."

Kurt whimpered. "Oh. Oh, God. I'm a … I'm a _slut_, sir. A whore. I … I want cock so bad."

"Whose cock?"

"Mm, yours, sir. Only yours. Please, please, let me cum." Instead, Puck let go and started doing back up Kurt's pants. The soprano pressed his face into Noah's shoulder and let out a wanton sob. "No, _please_. Need to, need to …."

Puck shushed him and put the tray table back up. "I'm going to get up and go to the bathroom. I want you to sit here and count to thirty-five and then get up and come back there. Knock three times on the door. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt breathed, eyes dark with lust.

It was the longest half-minute of Kurt's life. His hands clenched on the edges of the seat so hard he was sure it would rip. His heart and his cock throbbed in time. When he was done counting, he shakily stood, trying not to disturb the man next to them (how in God's name had he not woken up yet?), and started walking down the aisle. Somewhere between Finn and Mercedes, the vibrator kicked on again. He stumbled, stopped, then started walking again with deliberately slower steps.

The three knocks on the door were shaky, but Puck's hand swung out and pulled him in before pressing Kurt against the door and Kurt's lips against Puck's. The Jewish boy's tongue thrust in and out of Kurt's mouth suggestively before he ripped away and pressed Kurt down to his knees. With one flick of the wrist, his jeans were undone.

"Suck," he commanded.

The blowjob was messy and cramped. Kurt's knee pressed against the sink pipe the entire time, and the door handle was pressed against Puck's hip painfully. Soon enough, though, Puck was groaning Kurt's name and Kurt was swallowing around Noah's hard-on, moaning like a cheap whore. Noah dragged him up by his collar and pushed him onto the toilet seat, turning the vibrator up as high as it would go and fisting Kurt's erection in one hand.

"Please," Kurt begged, eyes rolling back into his head from pleasure. "Please, sir, please let me _cum_."

"Do it," Puck hissed and bit down on Kurt's earlobe. The soprano tensed, then pressed his face into Puck's shoulder to stifle his moans as he came into Puck's warm hand.

They slumped back against whatever was behind them (a sink and a bathroom wall). Noah lifted his messy hand up to Kurt's face and the brunette lazily licked his cum off of it, humming around each digit.

For a while, the only sound in the tiny, tiny little room was panting. Then, Puck laughed.

"What?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Puck chuckled. "Just … how 'bout that airplane food?"

* * *

**A/N:** UGH OH MY GOD, THAT JOKE IS HORRIBLE, WHY DID I WRITE IT.

Enjoyed? Annoyed? Apathetic? Tell me all about it with a review or PM!

Um, as for why I haven't written in so long, here's my list:

Thanksgiving. Christmas. Finals. School starting again. Friend drama. Class trip to NYC. Working to make money for class trip to NYC. Got depressed again. Tried to commit suicide again. Got sent to a psychiatric hospital again. (Yes, again. I know. I'm a psycho.) Mid-terms. Banquet. Banquet dresses. Banquet tickets. Banquet dates. Finding a job. Actually working at my job. Keeping secret porn writings away from friends and family. Got caught up in watching Supernatural.

Yeah, the last one doesn't really count, but it's true. Anyway, that's a comprehensive summary of my life since about last November. Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'm going to keep writing. Yes, we'll get to the actual fucking at some point. Yes, I do ask myself a lot of questions.

Love ya, thanks for reading, hope you don't die in a fiery plane crash because your pilots were doing the horizontal tango,

SilentxWriter


	5. In the Apartment

**A/N:** OH MY GOD IT'S SO LONG! (That's what she said.) Also, it's disjointed, because it was written over about 5 months, while I got a new laptop and graduated from high school and moved into a new apartment. So, ha, real excuses this time! But, hey, we get COCK IN ASS in this chapter. Yes, that's right. ACTUAL FUCKING. Cue the Hallelujah chorus.

Um, so, first off, ignore my Blaine. No, seriously, please do. I was kind of going for fun and then he took a left turn at weird, and then I lost him in the jungles of insanity. Apparently I can write angsty!Blaine, but actual!Blaine escapes me. So, yes, let's pretend he just kind of lost his mind, mmhmm?

Second, this is sort of future-y, but I'm not much into typing in backstories, so pretend whatever you wanted to happen, happened. All that matters now is that Puck and Kurt are dating and living together, Kurt is a fashion intern (no, I don't know if that actually exists), and ... I think they live in New York. And they're still being all hot and kinky. Yay!

Third, warnings: um, anal, but knowing my reviewers I think that's less of a warning and more of an advertisement; semi-public; the usual slashy-BDSM stuff that you all came here to see. That should be it...

So, you know, enjoy, and, uh, if I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Kay? Kay.

Enjoy!

* * *

Kurt was pissed at just about everything. He was pissed at that barista at Starbucks who got him a full-fat mocha with no whip instead of a non-fat mocha with extra whip, and the transmission on his car, and the new intern who had misspelled "Burberry", and the cabbie who splashed his new outfit, and Noah Puckerman. _Especially_ Noah Puckerman. Oh, God was he pissed at Puck.

The day had started out so good, too. He'd woken up to Noah's mouth on his neck and a strong hand stroking him up and - oh, _fuck_ - down. He'd somehow managed to stutter out a "M-morning?" against the overwhelming urge to moan.

"Morning, babe," Noah had mumbled against his skin (and damn, but those vibrations felt good). "Sleep well?"

Kurt had shifted and felt the dull ache in his ass. "Well enough. You're - mm, do that again - you're in a mood today."

Puck had chuckled. "I feel like playing today. Can you blame me, though, when I wake up and see all this in front of me?" He gestured down the length of Kurt's body, at the finger-shaped bruises on his hips and the hickeys scattered across his torso.

"Well, I a-am pretty sexy, if I do say so myself."

The grip on his penis had tightened. "Mmhmm. And all mine. Isn't that right, babe?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt had finally allowed himself to moan. "I'm all yours, Master."

"Mm, good boy."

Yes, the day had started out really well in that bed. And the shower ... and the kitchen counter ... and the foyer.

But then everything got shot to hell, with the coffee and the car breaking down and the problems at work. Kurt had been stressed beyond belief and so he called up Blaine for a long venting session over lunch. Blaine agreed, suggested a few places. Kurt picked one and e-mailed Noah to let him know where he'd be. And then Noah had replied.

_hey babe,_

_lunch with blaine, huh? that sounds fine, just as long as you're willing to do something for me. that big red vibe should still be in your desk drawer from last week. I want you to go put it in and keep the remote with you. keep your phone on and i'll let you know what to put it at. remember the rules though, baby. you don't get to cum unless i say so. if you're a good boy for me, i might even reward you. _

_have fun with blaine at lunch and I'll see you tonight. let me know if you want chinese or whatever and i'll pick it up._

_love ya babe ;)_

_Noah_

Was Puck insane? Kurt wasn't exactly, um, _quiet_ when it came to sex, and Blaine wasn't an idiot. It would be absolutely _mortifying_ if Blaine managed to find out what was going on. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't.

But if he didn't ... was he willing to risk Puck's punishment if he didn't? The last time he'd denied Noah something, he'd gone three weeks without being touched. No handjobs, no sex, and definitely no orgasms. It had been hell. There was no way he could willingly put himself through that again.

Oh, God, there was really only one choice, wasn't there?

The men's restroom was wonderfully empty when Kurt got there. He rushed into a stall, slung his satchel (_not_ a purse!) over the hook, and took several deep breaths. His pants seemed to make a horrendous amount of noise as he slipped them off, and had the lube bottle always been that loud to open? He squeezed some slick onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm it. And then he reached behind himself and –

Oh.

_Oh_.

Oh, that felt good. Another finger was - Jesus, that was even better and he started to scissor them and really, why had he thought that this was so bad in the first place? This was obviously the best thing ever and he should be doing it all the time –

It took almost all of his willpower to pull his fingers away and grab the plug from the top of the tank. Right then. On three. One. Two. Thr –

Sweet mother of Gaga that plug was big! Really, really big. And pressed right against his prostate in the most delicious way possible. He stifled a moan because he was in a public bathroom for God's sake, and pulled out his phone. As he leaned against the wall, he texted Puck. _It's in._

The reply was almost instantaneous. _Pics._ Kurt flushed an extraordinary shade of red, but quckly snapped a few. When he sent them, another message came back. _wat, no rguing? slut._

Kurt took a deep breath through his nose. "Not the time or place," he muttered to himself. No, no matter how much he wanted to sext Puck or drive over to the gym where his boyfriend worked, drop to his knees, and beg to be fucked, he wouldn't.

He zipped his pants up, washed his hands, and then took a minute or two to think of dead kittens and his seventy-year old boss in a jockstrap so he wasn't broadcasting his horniness to the office. Not that it did much good, since all his hard worked was wiped out by one short walk back to his desk. That was strange … hadn't he left himself logged on to his computer? And he was sure that his pencils had not been arranged into a lightning bolt.

Suddenly, hands clasped over his eyes. He almost screamed, until a familiar voice sing-songed into his ear, "Guess who-oo?" He started to answer, but was cut off. "Ooh, no, wait, you need hints! Okay, um, hint number one: I'm your best friend."

"Artie?" Kurt mock-gasped.

"No!" the voice protested and the hands pulled off of his eyes to slap him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Kurt yelped. "Jesus, Blaine, do you have to hit so hard?"

The shorter man stuck out his tongue. "Do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Really, Blaine? 'Jerk'? Are you twelve?"

"Twenty-three, thank you very much."

"Your height notwithstanding - "

"Hey!"

" – The fact that you're playing 'Guess Who?' and rearranging my pens seems to speak otherwise."

Blaine gestured at the pens. "But … it's a lightning bolt. Come on, man! Lightning is cool!"

Finally, Kurt allowed himself to laugh. "Okay, yes, Blaine. Lightning is very cool."

"Told you so! Hey, speaking of lightning, are you still on that weird 'I-only-eat-radishes-and-the-stomachs-of-small-goats' diet?"

"Am I still on the – what? I don't even know how to respond to that."

"I'll take that as a 'no.' Ooh, hey, did you see that new movie with the robots? You know, the one where that possum-looking thing starts going all kung-fu on the bad guy's ass."

Kurt was starting to remember why he had called up Blaine for lunch. Everyone knew the perfect remedy for stress was fun and he couldn't think of anyone more, um, "fun" than Blaine. Honestly, what other person did he know that _meowed_ on the elevator? Or bowed as they got off and thanked everyone for their "wonderfully delightful company"? Kurt loved Blaine (as a friend), of course, but honestly the guy was sometimes just baffling.

It was almost a relief to get to Blaine's car and start singing along to the radio. And then Kurt was quickly reminded that his parking lot had speed bumps when Blaine drove over one and the plug inside him rubbed against his prostate and he fucking _squeaked._ Blaine looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You okay there, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Kurt assured, and then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, fine. Perfect. Just a little – oh, _God_, you drive fast, don't you? – just a little excited for today." Sure, excited. That was one word for it.

Blaine shrugged and slowed down a bit, but that just made the climb and drop that much longer. Kurt awkwardly shifted his bag to cover his growing arousal. There was no way he was going to be able to last this whole day like this. Fuck, he wasn't sure he could last the whole _drive_ like this. Not with hard plastic putting delicious pressure on his prostate and his cock rubbing against the front of his pants like it was right now and –

"Kurt? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Kurt?"

He jolted in the seat and instantly regretted it. "Yes, yes, I'm fine Blaine. I swear."

The curly haired man raised an eyebrow. "You're sweating and you always complain about how cold my car is."

" … It's hot outside?"

"It's April."

Kurt _thunk_ed his head back on the headrest. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm running a fever or something. Can we just hurry up and get there?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bossypants," Blaine joked.

Except, oh shit, that made him think of Puck and the e-mail and how he had to keep an eye on his phone so he would know when to turn on the vibrator and – oh, God, that was it, the universe was obviously trying to kill him with gay sex.

By the time Blaine had navigated the streets, found a parking spot, and dragged him inside, Kurt was so horny he could barely see straight. Sitting at the table was, to put it lightly, an experience, and he only tried to scoot his chair forward twice before giving up. When Blaine pulled out his phone to take a call, Kurt quickly texted Puck a simple _At the restaurant._ They got through bread and salad before the reply came. It was just a number. _3._

Right in the middle, then. Kurt slid the dial up and tried desperately to ignore the growing need in the pit of his stomach. His phone buzzed again suddenly, making him jump and clench around the plug. _Tell me how it feels_.

His fingers stuttered over the keys. _Sdo gud, sir. I''m so hard rite now. Wannta cum_. He could almost hear Puck chuckling on the other end. Kurt constantly complained about Noah's lack of grammar when he was texting, but when the fashion intern was really turned on, proper English went right out the window.

_not a chance. 1._

One was more manageable. The arousal was still there, but it was an undercurrent. He could take a bite of fettuccine, talk to Blaine about the new issue of _Vogue_, laugh at the other patrons' clothing. But of course Noah knew that, and of course his boyfriend wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. The _2_ text came quickly, followed almost immediately by _4_.

And fuck if that didn't make him harder than steel. _Pllzzz_, he texted desperately. All he got in response was a simple _no._ His hips jerked forwards, trying in vain to find some source of friction, some way to get off. As Blaine looked over the check, he reached down to adjust himself and his eyes drifted shut as his fingers trailed across his aching cock. Fuck the rest of the restaurant, fuck the fact that he was three feet from his best friend, fuck the fact that he wasn't allowed yet, Kurt really, really wanted to cum right then.

"Kurt?"

He was sure he whined as he forced his fingers away. "Y-yes, Blaine?"

"Kurt, really, you don't look all right. You're sweaty and red and short of breath."

"I'm fine, Blaine." He forced the words out past gritted teeth.

The former Warbler raised an eyebrow. "I'm not buying it, Kurt. Look, there's only one thing you need to do."

Cum? Why yes, Blaine, I'd love to cum, but you see there's the tiny problem of being in public. Plus, if I do, my boyfriend will spank my ass red.

"You need to call in sick. I'm not taking you back to that office until you do. I don't care what you tell them – hell, tell them you have cholera – but you're not going back to work."

Kurt almost laughed out loud at that, despite the circumstances. Blaine was so naïve it was almost cute. "Look, I'd l-like to, but my boss - " Before he could finish his sentence, his phone buzzed again with the text _5_. Kurt adjusted the dial and immediately grabbed onto the sides of the table for support. Oh, fuck. Oh, _fuck_. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck that was _goooooood_. It was – and he was supposed to be talking – just like that – people were starting to stare – holy – he needed to – _fuuuuuuuck_.

"All right, that settles it," Kurt barely heard. "Come on, I'm taking you back to your place. Forget about your boss, I'll call him and tell him that you nearly died on your lunch hour, okay?"

"S-s-sure," Kurt agreed, only halfway knowing what he was agreeing to. As Blaine helped him hobble out the car, he texted Puck. _Ttoooo mmuuuuch_.

_2 then,_ came the reply.

He sighed in relief and turned the vibrator down. _Thank you ssir. Baline thin ks i'm sick and si taking me home. _Text finished, he leaned forward and rested his head against the cool surface of the dashboard. Five minutes from their apartment, he got the reply.

_Wen u get inside, strip. kneel by door and put plug on 5. _

It took a few seconds for Kurt's brain to kick on and start connecting puzzle pieces, but when he did, he almost cried. It was, what, nearing two o'clock right now? And Puck didn't get off of work until five. He was going to be kneeling there for the better part of three hours with an enormous plug torturing him. There was no way he was going to be able to put off cumming, but if he did then Noah was going to beat his ass raw. He was so fucked.

Blaine slowed his car to a stop at the curb. "You need some help getting inside?"

"No!" Kurt all but shouted. Yeah, just what he needed to finish out this day of embarrassment: his best friend to see him naked and kneeling. "Uh, I mean, no, I'll be fine. Th-thanks for the ride, Blaine. See you next week?"

As he grabbed his things and started the walk up to their apartment, Kurt could feel the dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Ten more steps until the torture started. Eight more. Five. Three. One.

Kurt hung his clothes in the coat closet by the door (What? Those were _Armani_, and everyone knew that folding a good Armani was a cardinal sin), knelt on the tile, and turned up the switch.

For a few moments, he tried to stifle his noises, but then he recalled that he was alone in his apartment in the middle of the day. Whimpers and moans ripped from his throat and his whole body shook from the pleasure. His cock dripped precum onto the floor beneath him, and he knew that if his master were here, Noah would make him lick it clean.

Oh, God, that was the wrong path to go down, because now he was thinking about Noah being here, his master's cock in his mouth, in his ass, fucking him so hard and fast and deep that Kurt would see stars and –

With a loud moan, he fell face forward into the carpet. Fuck, he was so close. But if he did cum, Noah would find out and he'd be punished. Five swats with a belt, or a month without cumming, or being spanked until he couldn't sit for a week – all of them so wonderfully painful. His head tilted so that his cheek was rubbing against the floor and he rocked his hips forward, sobbing, "Master."

"Well, look at this."

The voice startled him and took a few seconds to register. When it had, Kurt almost thought he was hallucinating. But no, those scuffed boots circling him were real and the musky scent he was so familiar with was real, and the growing bulge in those jeans – oh, God, he hoped that was real.

"Master," he moaned again. He tried to form a sentence, a thought, some way to tell this man how happy he was, how thankful, how … how …. But all that came out was, "Master."

The toe of the boot under his chin, pushing him back into a kneeling position, and then a hand on his jaw, forcing him to look up into Noah's face.

"I'm right here, you silly slut." When Kurt nuzzled into his hand, he laughed and pulled the remote for the vibrator out from his back pocket. "Maybe you need a little break."

He slid the dial down and, even as he whined, Kurt was whispering, "Thank you, Master, thank you." He pressed kisses into Noah's palm and, when the taller man stepped closer, along his pants leg.

Puck just hummed. Then, "I did take half a day off of work for you. I think that deserves just a little bit of gratitude, don't you slut?" In case the point wasn't clear enough, one hand fisted in Kurt's hair and dragged him forwards while the free one worked at undoing the fly of his jeans.

Kurt whimpered desperately. He _loved_ sucking his master's cock. The weight of it on his tongue, the taste, the noises Puck would make when he deep-throated him ….God, it was heaven. Noah pulled down his boxers and Kurt immediately took the half-hard organ into his mouth, moaning around it.

"Yeah, babe, that's it," Noah encouraged, pressing his head down further. "Take a little bit more … there we go. Mm, yeah, your mouth feels amazing. You're such a good cocksucker." And as degrading as that was, Kurt felt his heart pick up a little bit. When he ran his tongue along the head, Puck groaned and he was almost surprised how hard it was not to cum from that. He pulled back and laid his head against his master's thigh, panting. Above him, Noah chuckled.

"You look so good like this, you know that, whore? Hair messed up, naked, hard as a rock and so close you can barely breathe. Only I get to see you like this, isn't that right, love?"

Kurt's eyes slid closed. "Yes, sir. Only you, Master."

"Good boy," Noah murmured, petting Kurt's hair back. They stayed like that for a moment until Puck said, "Follow me," and started towards the bedroom. Kurt crawled behind him for a few steps but the plug started shifting inside him and his arms gave out. He fell into a shuddering ball, barely staving off orgasm. His master sighed and pulled him up, carrying him into the room and laying him on the bed. Kurt's legs spread automatically, hips pushing upwards. Noah chuckled.

"Easy now, my little bitch. We'll get there." As he spoke, he slipped the jeans off of his hips and kicked them across the room, followed closely by his boxers and shirt. By the time he had started peeling off his undershirt, Kurt was practically panting.

"Please, Master, please," he begged, hips undulating. "I've been good, sir, so good, just – _please_."

Noah planted his knees on either side of Kurt's stomach, looking down on him. "'Please' what, whore? You're not being very specific."

"Please f – oh, mm, ah. P-please, I, ah, I n-n-need - " he broke off, keening, as Puck's large hands teased his nipples. "Please, I need – need to – oh!"

"What do you need, babe?" Noah was smirking as his fingers trailed lines down Kurt's torso. "You need me to leave, maybe?"

"No! No, I – ah, I need you, M-master. Please, f-f-f – oh, God, p-please!"

Puck leaned down closer, resting his forehead on Kurt's. "Say it," he murmured.

"Please," Kurt breathed. "Please, _fuck me_." With a growl, Noah pressed their lips together, kissing his boy ferociously. Kurt moaned and whimpered and gasped as his master kissed across his jaw, down his neck, over his chest and stomach, until he was inches away from Kurt's leaking cock. The countertenor could only gasp strangled pleas, until Puck chuckled darkly and smacked his thigh, ordering, "Over." Kurt scrambled onto hands and knees.

A pair of lips attached to his neck as fingers trailed from his shoulders down to his hips, across his buttocks, before gripping around the base of the plug. His master pulled it the tiniest bit, and then pushed it back in excruciatingly slowly. Kurt keened, high and loud, at the feeling.

"Guess you like that?" came the mumble against his skin.

He gasped, "Yes, yes, Master. I – it's, God, I feel so _full_."

"Little slut," Noah growled. Kurt barely had time to agree before the plug was gone. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness spread through him, and he whimpered. His hips bucked forward before the Jewish man grabbed them and held them still. "Calm down, Princess. Half the fun's in getting there."

A bitchy comment half-formed in Kurt's mind (something about having waited almost two hours to 'get there') but all that came out of his mouth was, "Master, want – need your cock – please, God, sir. Fuck, need you so bad, need your cock so bad."

Puck mock-sighed. "Oh, all right then, slut." Kurt moaned, but then Puck was pulling away and getting up and where was he going? The countertenor sobbed and pressed his face into the pillow underneath him.

"Please, sir! I'm sorry, so sorry, I'll be good, I'll be a good boy. Don't leave, _please._ I need you, Master."

A hand reappeared on his shoulder blades, along with Noah's reassuring voice. "Hey, hey, calm down. Just getting the lube." A slick finger circled his opening before pressing in, and Kurt practically melted into the mattress. "That's it, babe, just like that. You're so open for me, my little slut. Think you can take another? Fuck, you look so good, spread around my fingers like this. Your hole is so hot, baby, I love it. One more, slut. Oh, yeah. You're so hot, my little whore."

"Please," Kurt gasped, his hips rocking back onto those _absolutely delicious_ fingers. "Please, sir, I need it. I _need_ you to fuck me, _please_."

Puck groaned low in his throat and pulled out his fingers. Kurt didn't even have time to moan before his master's cock was sliding into him, so slowly he thought he might die. His hips squirmed in Noah's grasp and he was moaning so loud the glass might shatter but he couldn't bring himself to really care because _Master was fucking him_!

Noah finally bottomed out and Kurt pressed his face into the pillow to stop himself from screaming. And then Puck was pulling out and now back – oh, God – back in, and damn it, why was he being so _slow_?

"Mas_ter_," Kurt whined. "_Please_, I need you to go faster."

Long fingers wrapped around his mouth and a deep voice hissed in his ear, "Shut up, slut. You're _mine_," he emphasized the words with a harsh slam of his hips, "and I will _fuck you_ however _fast_ or _slow_ I think you _deserve_. _Got_ that?"

"Yessssss," Kurt crooned against the fingers on his lips. "Yes, I, yes, thank you Master."

"Good boy," his master praised, then slammed his hips forward. Kurt screamed something unintelligible and rocketed up, reaching back to hook his arms around Noah's neck. "Such a flexible little bitch," Noah commented before taking advantage of the new position to pinch his boy's nipple.

Kurt's eyes rolled back in his head, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He was already starting to climb that peak. He shuddered, hips rutting down onto his master's, taking him deeper and deeper, wanting to know he'd pleased his master before he finally, finally came. Noah's fingers traced his ribs, his hipbones, his collarbone. They teased at his nipple, then rubbed his ass. Teeth and tongue traced the shell of his ear and always, _always_, that rock-hard cock slammed up against his prostate, effectively turning his brain to mush. Then, one of those (absolutely fucking _magical_) hands trailed down to his dick.

Kurt tried to warn Noah, but he was pretty sure all that came out was, "Mas – fu – oh, _Gaw_ – nngh, ah, I'm gon – gonna – Mas – cking – mmm, hhnng, uhn."

Somehow, his master got the message and pulled him up close to his body, hissing, "Cum, slut. Cum for me now."

Everything went white. Hours of denial, of teasing erupted and Kurt could only barely hang on for the ride. He was sure he screamed, he just wasn't sure what. And then he heard Noah groan from behind him, felt that familiar rush inside him and everything seemed to get more and more intense until it was going blurry around the edges, but it was so good, so good, so goo –

When he finally came to, he was laid out on their bed, Noah smoothing his hair back and kissing along his jawline. He looked up and smirked.

"Welcome back there, sweetie. Have a good time, I guess?"

Still muddled and hazy, Kurt burrowed into his boyfriend's arms, murmuring a, "Shush, you," into the warm, tan skin.

Noah chuckled. "Such a cuddle whore."

"You love it."

"Sure. Love it, tolerate it, what's the difference?"

Kurt reached up and laid a finger across the taller man's lips. "Thought I told you to shush."

"You did," Noah mumbled.

"Then do that, and snuggle with your adorable boyfriend while you're at it."

Puck just chuckled, though Kurt swore he could make out, "Puckzilla's still got it." Then Noah pulled him closer and they fell silent, just breathing and cuddling. Just before he slipped off, Kurt managed the thought that he should really send Blaine a gift basket or something.

Then he rested his head against his boyfriend's chest and slept.

* * *

**A/N: **D'awwwwww. Look at them, being all super cute and stuff... Yeah, I have no idea how that happened. Um, so, yes.

Uh, from here on out, I kind of need suggestions, because I feel like all my ideas are just recycled old ideas. So, any fresh new take would be all, y'know, cool and stuff.

Also, as this is my first time writing actual full-on sex (eep!) I'm not entirely sure how I did. If it sucked, let me know. I'm trying to get better, but I have to know what to improve on.

Pr0ny goodness? C0rny badness? D0n't care at all? Let me know with a review or a PM!

Thanks you so much for reading, because you are my inspiration,

~SilentxWriter


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